


He Who Is Final

by LastlyFirstly



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Death, Not Beta Read, i mean yeah hes the reaper so, i wrote this a long time ago and forgot about it, the document says last edited August 2017 lol, was going to do something with it but i forgot what and i didnt want to waste it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastlyFirstly/pseuds/LastlyFirstly
Summary: What is Death but a singular constant. Only does the observer decide what it is, who he is.An account of death, what we call it, and what those names reflect on our situations.





	He Who Is Final

**Author's Note:**

> "My name is Death and the end is here" -Jen Titus

There would always be a single constant in the universe. No matter what plane you went to or what world you found there was a single strand of similarity that tied everything together. No matter what name it goes by at the time it still exists. For every life there was death and this was the law of existence; The great give and take, the push and pull, the start and the finish. It was a dance or a battle, a hike or a drift. However one found their way approaching the final chapter it was still death.

Death, the unchanging. The Grim with personifications that terrified the young and old. The world could be on fire or birthing the first breath of life but Death would be standing there with a sober expression that he had held for more years than any one creature could live. No matter the calamity or jubilants Death was always the reliable anchor.

The hooded, skeletal figure of the Reaper stepped in and out of the material plane with a slash of his scythe and with him went countless souls. A menacing blade that curved into a soft crescent. Long, sharp, shining and attached to a six foot high, black staff that knotted with wooden spirals and the Raven Queen’s sigal. The scythe was the unmistakable sign of the Reaper, sweeping away the dead like a farm hand would sweep away overgrown grass. Fear was instilled in the hearts of the wicked that what waits for them beyond the veil was cold, heartless, and harmful. For those there was only the eternal stockade.

Kings and poppers all go to the same afterlife no matter what they would like to believe. The Equalizer does not take bribery or payment and when pleas are made he will only refer to his book. The eternal stockade holds the poor and the rich, likewise does the astral plane. Never one to discriminate between classes the Equalizer has all seeing eyes. His eyes can read the sins of the soul lights that shimmer in front of him, can decipher the past of the dead. There is no fooling him with rough palms or shining gems.

The Great Connector who reunites the long lost lovers, the friends, the family. He recognizes the faces that mourn in final moments, that hold a hand as it’s color fades, that shout at their god asking why, why would you take her? Once the mourners died they were taken to rejoin the passed. The Great Connector reunited loved ones and as he did so their views on the process changed. Once, they had seen him only as a darkness, as an end but now they saw him for something else. They saw him as a reunion of those they had long since lost. Loved ones would again hold each other in their arms and see each other smile.

It was not until the passing of a child that he would take a new form. The souls of children were delicate and often afraid. They wiped their tearful eyes on spectral sleeves and cried for parents that were not able to reach them. For the children the skeletal features and misting black cloak of Death was morphed into another form. He grew skin and hair, a human body tucked away under a nicely fitted suit, and a handsome face, complete with an approachable expression that he made sure was set in a soft smile. He would kneel to them and introduce himself with his favorite name, as Kravitz, not Death, never as Death. He would ask them their names and complement them, ask about friends and family that he was sure would be in the astral plane, and tell the children that they were waiting for them. Kravitz would summon his scythe to slash a rift to the other side personally accompany the child through, holding their hand the whole way.

This was how it had been, how it always should be. Reaper, Death, Equalizer, Connector, and Kravitz. Many names he held, many titles and faces that the world knew him by. A looming figure only changes with the lighting after all, not what it truly is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Yeah sorry for any grammar, spelling, or punctuation issues. I remember writing this in like twenty minutes in my kitchen and then forgetting about it. Thought I'd post it cus whats the worst that could happen? Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
